by Lauren Royal
"Jason. Kendra. I said I'm going to marry her."
Though Amy couldn't see Colin, she could hear the smile in his voice. He was enjoying this little scene. And she hadn't heard wrong the first time—he really did intend to make her his wife.
A prolonged silence settled as Kendra and Jason were apparently shocked speechless. Then Kendra whirled to face Amy. "Is this true?"
Was it? Amy clutched the blanket closer to her body. God in heaven, she couldn't marry him. Her father would never forgive her.
"I—no. No." She shook her head slowly, then faster as tears sprang to her eyes. "No."
"What?" Colin strode to the bed and stood staring down at her. "I told you last night—"
"—that you loved me." It hurt to look at him. She tucked the blanket under her arms and dropped her gaze, picking at a loose thread in the fabric. "I love you too, but I cannot marry you, Colin. I cannot. I have to reestablish the business—I told you that. I vowed I would see it carried on. And you said a peer's wife cannot run a shop. When we were at Greystone, you said if I married into the aristocracy, I'd never be able to reopen Goldsmith & Sons." She swallowed hard and looked up. "You said it, Colin—I heard you."
"Of course I said it!" He opened his mouth as though to say more, but then just stood there, red-faced and tongue-tied.
"You would choose a business over my brother?" Appearing completely baffled, Kendra shifted on her feet. "Over becoming a countess?"
"It's not a matter of choice!" Amy brushed angrily at her tears. Why couldn't these people understand? "I was born to a craft. And I hold in trust a fortune. I cannot just hand the Goldsmith inheritance to a husband—it belongs to future generations of Goldsmith & Sons."
"I won't take it, Amy. You have my word on that."
"What?" It was Jason's turn to look astonished. His lips thinned beneath his narrow black mustache. "You spoke truth when you said they belong together, Kendra. They're both totally, utterly insane."
Colin took a deep breath. The red faded from his features. "You have to marry me," he said calmly.
"Is something wrong with your hearing?" How many times could she refuse him without giving in? Every denial cost her a piece of her heart. "I said I cannot marry you. I cannot."
"You must."
"I said—"
"Robert is still out there. Bloody hell, I knew I should have killed him." He looked thoroughly disgusted with himself. "He'll find you, Amy. Even in Paris. He'll find you and he'll try again to force you to the altar. Maybe he'll succeed next time, or maybe he'll just murder you instead. Then he can petition for your wealth on the basis of the betrothal…"
Amy felt the blood drain out of her face. She put her hands to her cheeks.
Dear God, Colin was right.
"…if you marry me, it would do him no good to come after you."
"Because my fortune would belong to you, then."
"Only legally."
She found herself caught in his emerald gaze. "It's meant for the business," she whispered.
"It's meant for your descendants. As security, no?"
She nodded.
"They'll have it."
"Colin," Jason interrupted. "How will you restore Greystone?"
"Slowly," Colin snapped without sparing his brother a glance. "My new bride doesn't require living in luxury."
"But—"
"Hold your tongue." Waving him off, Colin knelt by the bed and took Amy's hands in his. "Your descendants will have your inheritance," he repeated. "Now…will you marry me?"
She gazed at him, his beloved features wavering through her tears. To wed Colin Chase—her heart's most selfish desire—so selfish she hadn't even dared to let herself consider it. But he was right—she had little choice. She could either wed him or Robert, or forfeit her life.
Forgive me, Papa, she intoned in her head, then nodded at Colin. His hands tightened around hers, almost painfully, and he raised himself to brush a kiss across her lips. An unfamiliar and unexpected warmth surged through her—a feeling of belonging to someone that she hadn't experienced in a long time.
Her senses were already reeling when Kendra let out a whoop of joy and threw herself on the bed, almost dislodging the carefully tucked quilt. She pulled Amy to her in a tight embrace that reminded Amy just how bruised and battered she was, but Amy didn't care. It felt so good to know she was about to be part of a family again. And when Kendra gushed, "Oh, Amy, you'll really, truly be my sister now," Amy was so happy she thought her heart might burst.
"Good job, Colin." Jason slapped his brother on the back, beaming. "You finally came to your senses. Well, partially, anyway," he added under his breath.
Kendra disentangled herself from Amy. "You were such a bloody blockhead," she told Colin, "I was ready to strangle you."
Colin just stood there grinning like an imbecile. Jason walked to the bed and leaned to kiss Amy on both cheeks. "Welcome to the family," he said warmly, and Amy would have thrown her arms around him if she hadn't been in such an embarrassing state of undress. As it was, more tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them back, and Jason straightened and cleared his throat.
"We'll have it at Cainewood," he said to Colin.
Colin had just sat to put on his stockings and boots. "Have what?" he asked blankly.
Kendra made a rude noise. "The wedding, of course." She looked to Jason. "He's still not himself, is he? A spring wedding… We'll have to start planning immediately."
"Oh, no." Colin's words were uttered in a voice that brooked no nonsense. "No spring wedding. We'll be married today."
"You cannot," Kendra said. "You have no license. No banns have been posted."
"Amy was to have been wed at St. Trinity this morning, and wed there she'll be. There's a madman loose. And even were that not so, I wouldn't wait a minute longer than necessary to make her my wife."
When Colin's gaze locked on Amy's, any objections she may have had to being married in a place of Robert Stanley's choosing were swept away in an instant.
Colin wanted her, and that was all that mattered.
"But…" Not one to be dissuaded easily, Kendra turned to Amy. "You want a real wedding, don't you? With guests and a wedding gown and dancing for hours afterward?"
Amy slowly shook her head. She'd planned a big wedding once, with an abundance of guests and a dress covered in love-knots, and she'd been altogether miserable. A simple wedding today, even at St. Trinity, sounded perfect.
And she'd be Colin's wife by tonight…
It still didn't seem real. It was too good to be true. You cannot have everything, she could hear her father saying—and he'd been right. But she had no real choice. Joy bubbled up inside her, and she hugged herself in blissful disbelief.
Now that was settled, Colin became all business. He strode to the hearth and plucked the ice-blue gown from where they'd left it in a crumpled heap on the floor. It rustled as he shook it out, saying, "It's ripped in the back. Damn."
Amy froze.
"Let me see." Kendra reached for the gown. No one noticed the color draining from Amy's face. "It's just a seam. I'm sure someone belowstairs can stitch it up in no time."
"No." The word was almost a whimper. Three sets of concerned green eyes fastened on Amy huddled on the bed. "I was supposed to marry him in that gown. I won't wear it."
Colin spread his hands and glanced around the room as though he expected a wedding gown to materialize out of thin air.
"I won't wear it," Amy repeated through clenched teeth.
Colin's hands dropped; his fingers drummed against one thigh as he stared at the gown in Kendra's arms, its icy blue contrasting with her own bright green dress. Then his fingers stilled, and he brightened. "Kendra, why don't you simply—"
Before the words were out of his mouth, Kendra wadded up the offending garment and thrust it into the fireplace.
It ignited with a great whoosh, sending sparks flying into the room. Colin blinked, dumbfounded. "What did you do that for? I wa
s going to suggest—"
"A typical logical male solution—my swapping gowns with Amy. You poor fool. I can assure you she doesn't want that dress in the same city, let alone standing beside her as witness to her marriage." Shaking her head in mock exasperation, Kendra turned to Amy. "Men can be so stupid sometimes. Are you sure you want to marry this one?"
Amy's answering giggle brought a grin to Colin's face. He bowed in Kendra's direction. "Your servant, my lady. Since you're so intelligent, I'm awaiting your instructions on how to deal with this problem." He bent down and picked up the filthy shredded nightgown, dangling it at arm's length from two fingers. "Shall she wear this, do you suppose?"
Another giggle from Amy was drowned by a loud guffaw from Jason. Kendra rolled her eyes. "No, I don't suppose. But I do have a plan."
"By all means, inform us. We're all dying of curiosity."
Kendra took a deep breath. "You, Colin Chase, are going to have to wait a few hours for your wedding. Do you think you can handle that?"
He raised one eyebrow, apparently reserving judgment.
His sister continued in authoritative tones. "Being Monday, Amy's gowns are now ready at Madame Beaumont's. I shall fetch one and bring it here. You will go home, clean up, and return in appropriate wedding attire. Look at you—your shirt is ripped."
"A bullet will do that," Colin said wryly.
"A bullet?"
He waved off her concern. "It's nothing, just a scratch."
"Colin—" Jason started.
"It's nothing. Amy?"
"It's nothing," Amy said with a small smile.
She loved this bickering family.
Colin turned back to Kendra. "Continue."
"Well, then, you haven't shaved in two days!"
"I apologize for offending you," Colin drawled, rubbing his whiskered chin. "I've been a mite busy."
"Well, I'll admit we do have evidence you were occupied," Kendra returned, looking pointedly to Amy.
Amy had been so busy enjoying their argument and basking in the warmth of their acceptance, she'd almost forgotten her unseemly predicament. Now the center of their attention, she felt herself blush from her hairline to her toes.
Colin grinned with masculine pride, but Jason took pity on her. "Now that you've thoroughly embarrassed Colin's bride," he said to Kendra, "are you quite finished?"
"Yes," Kendra muttered. "Sorry, Amy."
"Colin, you seem to have forgotten one large obstacle to this hasty wedding." The good-natured bantering tone had disappeared from Jason's voice, and he looked toward Colin with all seriousness.
"What could that be?" Colin held up a hand and ticked off imaginary impediments on his fingers. "Apparently there's a gown waiting for Amy, and we've established my need to shave and change my shirt…what? What is it?"
"The simple matter that you're betrothed to someone else?"
"Oh. There is that."
Amy's heart skipped in her chest.
"Yes, there is," Jason said.
"You don't suppose I could just write her a letter afterward?"
"No, I don't think that would quite satisfy my sense of propriety."
"I didn't think so." Colin paused, staring at his boots for a moment, while Amy held her breath. "Well, there's nothing for it," he said at last. "I shall ride to Priscilla's house straightaway and explain myself. I don't expect they can force me to the altar."
"Let us hope Lord Hobbs agrees. There's the matter of the dowr—"
"Shh." With a furtive glance at Amy, Colin held up a hand. "He has no choice. He's a cold, calculating buzzard, but he won't get the best of me."
Amy started breathing again when Colin suddenly smiled. "Can you imagine anyone voluntarily becoming his son-in-law?" he asked playfully. "Or, even more unbelievable, taking his daughter to wife, when she's such a—"
"Snob?" Kendra supplied helpfully.
"Exactly."
Jason clapped Colin on the shoulder. "Are you still determined to accomplish all of this today?"
Colin ignored his brother, smiling at Amy instead. "Absolutely."
Meeting his gaze, she melted a little inside.
"Shall I come along with you?" Jason offered.
"No. I do believe I'm actually looking forward to clipping this buzzard's wings."
Colin's smile widened, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and she melted a little bit more.
"Very well, then. Kendra and I will fetch Amy's clothes and meet you at the town house. We'll all return together."
Frowning, Colin tore his gaze from Amy's. "Wait a minute—we cannot leave Amy alone. That scoundrel Stanley is still walking the earth—an error I'm regretting more with each passing minute."
"I'll send up one of the footmen to guard the door."
"Make that two," Colin said. "And Amy will need breakfast sent up as well."
Jason nodded. "Done." He swiped Colin's swordbelt off the table and tossed it to him. "I'll have to cancel a couple of appointments, but I suppose this takes precedence."
Colin caught the sword and buckled it on, grinning mischievously. "Are you sure, now? I wouldn't want to be responsible for upsetting your schedule."
"I'm sure." The brothers' eyes met, sparkling leaf-green to glittering emerald. Jason moved to enclose Colin in a bear hug. "God, I thought this day would never come. A Chase, married."
"It was bound to happen sooner or later," Colin said, his voice a bit choked. "Shall we?"
He accepted the surcoat that Kendra held out, flinging it over one shoulder, then went to Amy and leaned to brush a kiss across her forehead. Her heart pounding at his nearness and the realization that he would be hers—all hers—from now on, she risked releasing her blanket to reach up her arms and wind them around his neck, pulling his mouth down to hers.
Their lips met and clung for a long, sweet minute, until Jason cleared his throat.
"Get some rest, love." Colin's tone was more suggestive than his words. "I don't plan on letting you sleep tonight."
His sister gasped. "Col-in!"
"Hang it, Kendra, this was your idea in the first place."
Amy snuggled down in the bed, listening to Kendra's exaggerated sniff, Jason's infectious laugh, and Colin's hurried footsteps as they left to prepare for the wedding. Her family—almost.
The door closed behind them, but she could hear Kendra's exclamation through the walls. "Oh, my God—we forgot Ford!"
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Colin leaned against the mantel in the Hobbs's massive drawing room, twisting his ring and steeling himself to face Priscilla.
Breaking the betrothal had seemed such a simple matter at the Rose and Crown. But now that he was here, he suspected it would be harder than he'd thought.
Priscilla would be unhappy, though mostly out of humiliation, if he didn't miss his guess. He was well aware she harbored little genuine affection for him. He wondered if she were even capable of deep feeling.
Her father would be furious. Lord Hobbs had searched high and low for a son-in-law with Colin's connections, thrusting his daughter at every likely candidate. He wouldn't take lightly to having his careful plans thwarted.
Hearing heavy footsteps on the parquet floor outside the room, Colin stood up straight and tugged his surcoat tighter around his middle, hoping to conceal the rip in his shirt. His jaw tensed when Lord Hobbs entered alone. A tall, pale man, he was most definitely his daughter's father, though he did have a more animated personality—one that had always rubbed Colin the wrong way.
"Lord Hobbs. I had asked to speak with Priscilla."
"My daughter isn't home at the moment. I was thinking we might share a drink while you waited. King Charles—" Hobbs broke off and looked critically at Colin, sizing up his rumpled form. "My God, Greystone, you look positively disreputable. Have you fought a duel, or what?"
"Something like that," Colin muttered, rubbing his stubbled jaw. "When will Priscilla be returning?"
"Lord knows. She's off shopping with a few friends�
��spending my money like there's no tomorrow, no doubt." He poured Madeira into two goblets and handed one to Colin with a jovial slap on the back. "Glad that will be your problem soon."
Colin couldn't dally until Priscilla returned. Amy was waiting. "That's what I wanted to discuss, sir. I'm sorry Priscilla isn't here, but perhaps it's best I talk to you, in any case."
"About Priscilla's spending habits? I suppose you can put her on an allowance, but she won't take kindly—"
"No, sir. About our marriage." Colin took a mouthful of wine and swallowed it deliberately. "I want to call off our betrothal."
"You what?"
Colin hadn't eaten in two days. The Madeira burned a path down his throat and into his stomach, and courage flowed in after it. "I want to call off our betrothal," he repeated firmly. "Your daughter and I—we aren't suited. It's not a good match."
"Not a good match? You need her fortune, and I need the king's ear in order to obtain a license to develop my land outside London. It's a perfect match."
"I don't love your daughter, sir."
"Pshaw! What does that matter? Take a mistress. My daughter isn't the warmest of women—you think I haven't noticed? I won't think the less of you for it." Hobbs put an arm around Colin and tugged him close to his side. "A warm, willing wench in the City and a beautiful heiress in the country—what more could a man want, eh?"
Hobbs's hot, alcoholic breath washed over Colin's face, making him pull away before he retched in response. The man was making him physically sick. Colin felt sorry for Priscilla—it wasn't her fault he couldn't love her—and angry with Hobbs for treating his own daughter so callously.
The despicable buzzard.
He took a deep breath and sidled away from the man. "I'm marrying someone else this afternoon," he said quietly.
Hobbs's jaw set, and his breath became labored. "You would leave Priscilla for another woman? My Priscilla? After a formal betrothal? After you—you ruined her?"
Despite the gravity of the situation, Colin felt an absurd urge to laugh. "Ruined her?" he said, incredulous. "That's a joke."
